


And So it Goes

by AddyPlantagenet



Series: Songs of Ice and Fire [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Jonerys until I die, Songs of Ice and Fire Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 16:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19794607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AddyPlantagenet/pseuds/AddyPlantagenet
Summary: Little interlude on the way to Winterfell. They talk about some stuff.





	And So it Goes

_“So I would choose to be with you_  
That's if the choice were mine to make  
But you can make decisions too  
And you can have this heart to break

_And so it goes, and so it goes  
And you're the only one who knows”_

_“And so it Goes,” – Billy Joel_

Before he met her he’d found his peace in silence. He loved his sisters but when he was alone, when there was no one assessing his face and actions, when he could feel unsure but safe in his solitude, he felt calm.

Now he found it in small soft hands and violet eyes. In warmth and gentle sighs, in silken skin and an all consuming need to be touched. If he wasn’t so fucking desperate for the feel, taste and sound of her he’d think he was bewitched. He’d be terrified of how fast he’d fallen for her, and how intense it felt, how strong and good it felt to be overwhelmed by something that gave him so much joy. Every night he sank into her and every morning he felt cleaner, calmer, lighter, but always craving more. That would worry him as well if he didn’t see it reflected back in her eyes. If her kisses and gasps didn’t speak of her desire. If the bruises and marks she left on him didn’t give away her matching desperation. Every morning he woke in her arms, her grip was tight on him, as if she was afraid of losing him in her sleep. He didn’t have the words to express what it felt like to know that this extraordinary creature saw him as a need as well.

From their weeks on the ship to White Harbor and on so far on the journey to Winterfell they’d come to each other. Every night they’d crashed together with the same aching desperation as the first night. As if the days they had to spend apart were now intolerable, like they’d been starving for each other touch all day. There was a whole list of things he loved doing with her, and most of it was newly discovered. Between lovemaking she’d hold his hand and whisper her stories and he’d whisper back. They traded secrets and fears an caresses. He played with her soft moonlight hair while she pressed gentle kisses over every scar she could reach, as if she wanted to erase the pain they caused and continued to cause him. The comfort that it gave was unlike anything he’s ever known.

He loved how she sighed into his mouth whenever he kissed her. He loved that no matter how tightly he held her she always pulled him closer, took his deeper, kissed him harder. He loved how she’d wrap herself around him when they made love and cradle him when he collapsed against her, sweat slicked and exhausted, stroking his hair. No one had ever stroked his hair his whole life; not Ygritte and certainly not Lady Stark. He was a grown man who should probably feel embarrassed by his thirst for that gentle affection. But when his head was resting on her chest with her heart beating in his ear and her tender ministrations soothing every quiet desperate childhood need, he couldn’t bring himself to give a damn.

One night, while they lay tangled together with her resting against his chest she tells him the truth of her brother. Even as his hands lazily play with hers, as he pressed soft kisses to the back of her head and her temple, he feels a rage followed by a bone deep sadness for the little girl she was. For all his loneliness in his childhood at Winterfell, he’d known that he was loved by Robb, Rickon, Bran, Arya and Lord Stark. He’d known that he was loved by Uncle Benjen. He’d never known the kind of betrayal she spoke of. To be traded away with no thought to his well being. To be told to his face that he was nothing more than a tool, a resource, a thing. To Lady Stark he’d been a living breathing curse, a penance that she had resented in good times and actively hated at others. But what Daenerys spoke of was something else. That kind of malice was almost impersonal and all the more devastating considering that he was her only protector in the world.

“I told you that my brother died but I never told you how. He threatened to cut out my child and leave it for my husband when he took me back for breach of contract. He wanted his army and he wasn’t prepared to wait.”

“He did this in front of your husband?”

“He did this in front of the entire Khalassar. By that time Drogo and I had fallen in love. He gave Viserys a crown of molten gold. He begged and pleaded with me to help him and I said nothing. When I watched him die I felt nothing but relief.”

“And you named a dragon for him.”

“He wanted to be a dragon. He believed he was one. The was he died proved otherwise.” She paused and took a breath before continuing, the sardonic edge to her voice replaced with sadness. “He loved me once. When we were younger, before his lust for the throne drove him to leave me with nothing, to make me into a thing for him to use. I missed that brother.”

“I am sorry that you had to miss him. I’m sorry he didn’t stay that way for you. But I’m glad he’s dead.”

“So am I.”

He’s quiet for a moment, breathing her in, feeling her soft hands in his. With her back to him it’s easier to ask his next question. “Your husband,”

“Khal Drogo,”

“Yes, he was good to you?”

“Eventually. At first he… he didn’t know how to be gentle, and I didn’t know how to ask.”

“He hurt you?” The thought made him sick all over again. What sort of man could look at her and not want to keep her safe?

“Yes, often. The first months of marriage to him were… they were intolerable. I was too afraid to ask him to stop, not that it would have mattered. I had no where to go. I didn’t speak his language so I couldn’t speak to him, he didn’t speak mine. I don’t know that he was malicious, but I know that he didn’t try to be gentle for my sake. That he ignored my tears, that he kept hurting me, raping me.”

“Gods, Dany.” He had known that she’d been through a great deal. He still remembered her words the first time they’d met. Somehow, it had never occurred to him that most of what she’d suffered had come at the hands of those meant to protect her. People she should have been able to rely on and trust.

“Eventually I learned how to take control, how to please myself. He let me take control, he actually encouraged it. It was the first time in my life that speaking my mind didn’t lead to violence against me. I loved him because… because in the end I didn’t have much of a choice. And because he did give me control, and he wanted me strong and defiant, not weak and small. Because he defended me and respected me in a way that I’d never had before.

He became my protector and my encourager, and my ability to survive depended on him and how close we were. He would have brought me here, returned my father’s throne. He would have massacred anyone he saw, raped and pillaged. He wouldn’t have known to be better.” She turned him his arms and those violet eyes shone up at him, alight with love and warmth, but shadowed with the pain of her past. Her hand came up to stroke his face gently. “He wasn’t like you.” He pressed his mouth to her palm and held her hand against his cheek.

He wanted to wipe away every hurt she’d ever suffered. He wanted her to feel safe and warm and hopeful as she should always have been. He wanted to give her justice and slay ghosts. _I’ll never leave her. Never. She’s mine to protect from this day until my last day._

“Was he taller?” he asked, hoping to make her smile again. Her eyes sparkled with laughter as his words sank in. Her smile was infectious.

“He was quite a bit taller than you. Closer to the size of The Hound.”

“Gods,”

“But he wasn’t braver. He heart wasn’t as strong or true.”

“Mmmm.” He ran his hand down her soft arm, trying not to think of her as a child shivering, crying and afraid as some brute forced himself upon her.

“What was your Wildling girl like?” she asks, turning completely so that her soft breasts pressed against his side as she settled her cheek against his chest. “Was she taller than me?”

“Ygritte?”

“Were there more than one?”

“No.” he replied wrapping his arms around her, running his hands over her warm soft flesh. Somehow the memory of his lost love stung a little less with Dany tracing over his skin with her fingertips, “And yes she was quite a bit taller,” he gave her a playful squeeze and her answering laugh made his heart ache sweetly. “about as tall as me. But she was just as fierce. She had red hair. She liked to tell me that I knew nothing. She never let me win an argument, ever. No chance of an ego around her. We were enemies, then lovers, then enemies again. I was a spy trying to survive and in the end I had to go back. I had a duty to my people, I couldn’t stay with her no matter what I felt.”

“You miss her.”

“I miss how she used to talk. She was fearless, violent, passionate. You’d have liked her.”

“Not if she took you away from me.” Her embrace tightened possessively, and he couldn’t help but smile. “Did she love you?”

“Aye… I think so. But she loved her people more. I couldn’t blame her for that.”

“I won’t make you choose.”

“You may have to.” He knew his people. They were almost stupidly stubborn. They would rather die in the North than accept help from the South. They were not happy with him, and he knew that no matter what aide he managed to bring, they’d still be bitter towards him. Still scorn him for daring to leave them. If they forced him to choose between leading them and following her, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t choose her.

“No.” her words were soft but sure. “My pride isn’t worth your life, or your dignity. We will find a way, I won’t let you go, and I won’t let you be untrue to yourself.”

_My fierce dragon Queen. My protector._ “The Northerners are a stubborn lot.” He said even as his heart swelled in his chest.

“I’m aware.” She replied ruefully and he kissed her hair again, tightening his arms around her.

“You really aren’t.” he replied with a sigh.

“Are they worse than you?”

“They find me to be too compliant.”

“You?!” she lifted up and stared at him in shock. She seemed so incredulous that he nearly laughed out loud.

“Aye. They don’t care about pretty words. They watch deeds.”

“How wonderful,” she said before laying against him again. “So I must bleed for them to gain their allegiance.” 

“Aye, as you did with me.”

“I did didn’t I? I’d given up all hope of that by then.”

“I know. When I saw your dragons, when you came for us, I knew I’d follow you anywhere. When you pledged your loyalty after losing Viserion I knew that I was in love with you. I wouldn’t have blamed you for turning away.”

“After seeing that army, watching that _thing_ kill my child, I knew I had two options. Help or forfeit the throne and you.”

“In that order?” he can’t help but tease.

She nipped him again and dug her fingertips into his sides, shocking him into laughter and making him buck and squirm away from her pesky hands. “Yes,” she scowled even as her eyes twinkled with mischief. Eventually he managed to trap her hands and she returned to her place against him, her hands now languidly playing with his again. “You are so very annoying.”

“Mmmm.”

“And short.”

He started to laugh. Gods he loved her.

“And argumentative.”

“Guilty.”

“What would I do with you without my throne?”

His throat tightened against the words that seemed ready to burst forward. Words he’d wanted to ask a thousand times but knew better than to utter. But she was holding him so tightly and perhaps there was a chance… “Love me?”

She met his gaze with eyes suddenly wet with tears and then buried her face against his neck clutching him tightly. He held her tight, cradling her head, stroking her hair, kissing every part of her he could reach. What did it matter in the end? She was a Queen and he was a bastard. Whatever she felt, her choices on marriage would always be about something beyond her heart. But she was here now, in his arms, clutching him as though she could defy the world if she hung onto him long enough. Her ragged breaths against his skin saying everything caught in her throat, every emotion she couldn’t express. _I’m hers until the end of my days._


End file.
